Fallout: The Long Road
by VLADtheRussian
Summary: Following the defeat at Adams Air Force Base, a lone Enclave soldier is tasked to take an eyebot out west
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: 2277 Adams Air Force Base**

I woke to the sound of sirens blaring. My head, throbbing, footsteps pounding.

Around me my comrades rushed forth, climbing into their massive, monstrous suits, taking hold of their weapons, prepared to kill all enemies that might confront them. They marched, uniformly, almost gallantly, down to the battle being waged below.

The sound of a muffled explosion, and the subsequent shockwave it produced nearly caused me to roll from my bed, and strike the floor. Surely, I would have been trampled beneath the unfeeling, unceasing metal footfalls.

Perhaps, looking back, as my hands instinctively reached out to grab hold of the bed posts for my salvation, it would've been better to let myself fall. To succumb to sweet, eternal sleep, rather than deal with the hell outside.

"Attention, attention! This is Major Johnathan Anderson! All men, prepare your battle stations! Soldiers, to the ground, airmen, to the vertibirds! This is not a drill, repeat, this is not a drill!"

My fears had been confirmed. Somehow, we had been discovered.

I leapt to my feet, no more than a mere second before an officer, a man I recognized as Captain Jordan Chase, barged his way into the barracks. Immediately, I scrambled to climb inside my suit, to take hold of my rifle.

"Private!" the officer screamed, storming furiously towards me, "do you think you're special, that you get to straggle behind the rest of the soldiers?"

"No sir," I replied, as my suit closed in around me, like a cold, metal cocoon.

"Get your ass in line, private, and get to your fucking battle station," Captain Chase snarled, "these cultists are tearing our boys apart, private. Every fucking second you waste, the savages get one step closer to eradicating the last of the United States' government, once and for all!"

"Yes sir, Captain Chase," I said

It was fortunate that a helmet covered my face, or the captain would've seen my lips tremble, and my eyes water.

As quickly as he had entered, Captain Chase barged his way out, to begin barking orders again.

I proceeded to strap my plasma pistol and grenades to my belt. I'd never before used either of these weapons, and hoped I wouldn't today.

Lastly, I took hold my rifle. I cradled it close, as the massive fingers of the armor threaded their way into the workings of the weapon.

I breathed in, breathed out. Took one last long look at the barracks that had been my home, ever since I'd enlisted in the army. I fought back thoughts that maybe, just maybe, I could still run away. Run from this, from the war, from the army. Run, and for the first time in my life, be truly free.

"Cultists are everywhere!" I heard Captain Chase shout, as he ran down the corridor, "prepare Squad Sigma! Stand ready at the entrance!"

Not wishing to confront the captain a second time, I began to run for the stairs, down to the bulkhead. From there, I could make my way outside, to the frontlines.

The gunfire, the explosions, the screams grew all the louder as I approached the door. For a brief moment, I rested my hand on the handle, and hung my head. But I knew that I had to go out to the battlefield.

I just didn't want to die.

The door swung open, and my feet began to thud down the rampway.

All around me, soldiers were taking cover, tentatively peaking their heads over the small walls to fire at the oncoming cultist horde.

"Soldier!" a fellow soldier stood up, waving his hand.

As quickly as the man had risen, his head and hand were shredded apart, spraying chunks of bone, blood and brain matter to the cement behind him. The lifeless body fell back, even as more bullets ripped their way through the chest and shoulders of the corpse.

"Oh god," I couldn't breathe, couldn't see, couldn't think.

"Soldier, get your ass into cover!" a hellfire troop shouted over the din of the chaos ensuing.

"I ran for the cover where the headless soldier hand once waved only seconds ago. I looked around, to see another soldier beside me.

"These cultists, they're insane," the man gasped, "they're shredding through our lines, like they're unstoppable. I-I-I don't know what to do,"

The soldier's head dropped into his hands, as he began wailing.

I raised my rifle and faced the onslaught coming towards us.

Dozens of cultists, in their bulky, unrefined suits of armor, armed with assault and laser rifles, continued pressing towards us. They seemed invincible, even as the occasional blast of plasma would drop members of their ranks.

A spray of laser fire narrowly missed my face, instead pounding away at a chunk of metal behind me.

Immediately, I ducked, to see the constant blast strike, like a blade, severing a man clean in half, bloodlessly, as the laser continued its unfeeling, unthinking sweep.

"Fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!" the soldier next to me cried, pounding his fist repeatedly against the cement.

I took a few wild shots from my plasma rifle, before ducking down again. I knew I hadn't hit a target, but I had directed more fire my direction.

The hellfire troop who had yelled at me earlier rose to his feet, and began a charge forward, letting loose balls of fire from his incinerator.

"Burn, you anti-American sons of bitches!" he screamed and laughed.

I peeked up, to see two of the cultists, rolling on the ground, being cooked alive. I knew they were screaming, even if I couldn't hear them, even as the hellfire troops rushed forward.

But a cultist in white, pristine power armor raised his rifle, and shot the soldier twice in the head, stopping the hellfire troop in his tracks. My eyes widened with fear and horror.

"It's the Lone Wanderer! Kill that fucker, and we'll end the whole motherfucking war!" I heard someone scream from above me.

I looked up to see the commander, and president of the United States, Major Anderson, yelling from atop the mobile base. And behind him, two vertibirds rose.

"God bless the United States Air Force," I heard someone say.

The vertibirds began spraying machinegun fire down upon the cultists, shredding through the power armor as easily as though it were punching holes in tin cans. The soldiers around me cheered, even as more of our men were gunned down.

"You see, we're saved, for sure," I said, placing a hand tentatively on my companion's arm.

No sooner had the words left my mouth, then I heard a thundering crack, and saw a brilliant flash of lightning. As though God himself had averted his wrath upon us, the lightning struck the first of the vertibirds dead on, and the thing exploded, sending shrapnel raining down upon us.

I ducked, placing my hands over my head. I knew this battle was surely lost, and I began to scream and cry, like a child.

Another flash of lightning appeared, coming from a weapon held by the man in the white armor, striking the wing of the second vertibird, sending it spiraling out of control. The cultists had stolen our one salvation.

I heard moaning, and turned, in horror, to the soldier on my right. A jagged piece of shrapnel had impaled him, and now protruded from his stomach.

"Pull it out, please," the man wheezed, begging.

"I can't, I'm sorry, I can't" I replied weakly, as I swallowed the vomit that rose in my throat.

"Please help," the man pleaded, pawing pathetically at the chunk of metal.

I took hold of the shrapnel, turned my head, and pulled, with all of my strength, until I tumbled back, the bloodied edge of the metal smearing the visor of my helmet. Frantically, I tossed the thing aside, and flattened myself against the cover.

"Oh, oh god, please."

My head turned in horror, as I saw the soldier clutching at his abdomen, his intestines spilling out between his fingers, like great wet snakes. Blood and bile leaked from the poor soldier.

"God, please. Mom, mama, mama, please, let me go home," The soldier wept, clearly in an agony that I could never compare to.

I pulled a stimpak from my satchel, ignoring the plinking of bullets and lasers striking our cover, my fingers shaking. I had no idea what to do. My eyes squeezed shit as I began to cry at the futility of it all, pressing myself even more tightly against the cover.

I saw the body of an officer, with shards of metal protruding from his torso at many angles, fall from the top of the platform, and splat only three feet from me. I let out a squeal of terror.

"Save me, save me, save me, mama," the soldier's voice grew weaker.

Knowing not what to do, I stabbed the stimpak into the man's stomach, into his entrails, and depressed the plunger.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I heard someone scream, before a well-placed shot from a laser rifle blew off half of his face, sending his tumbling over his cover to the ground.

"L-look, I-I-I'm sorry. I can't" I said, tears still blinding me.

Frantically, I lobbed both my grenades, hoping I could take out at least one of these cultists, punish them for what they had done. I closed my eyes, covered my ears.

But the explosion never came.

I poked my head up from cover, letting loose several shots from my rifle, to see that a cultist had leapt atop the grenades, arms and legs spread wide. But the blast never came. And the confused cultist climbed to his feet, inspecting the grenades, before pulling the pins, and hurling them back.

 _Of course, the pins_. How could I have been so stupid, to forget something like this.

My grenade landed at my feet, now live, and ready to explode. So I ran.

Back up the ramp, screaming all the way. Back through the hatch, safely inside the massive, monolithic mobile platform. And I hid.

Only a few seconds had passed, before the door was kicked open, and the man in the white power armor entered. His gaze lingered upon the robot workshop, before moving to the weapons storage, and stairwell.

I pressed myself into as small of a space as I could, praying that if a God were still out there, still alive, that he would protect me.

Suddenly, soldiers emblazoned with the red stripes of Squad Sigma barged their way down the stairwell. The lead man locked eyes with the cultist's.

"Fucking hell, it's the Lone Wanderer!" the lead squad mate shouted, before two bullets burrowed their way into his helmet, spraying his comrades with blood.

The Lone Wanderer rolled to the side, unleashing a spray from his assault rifle, killing two more of the most elite soldiers left in the United States Army.

A pulse grenade flew from the Lone Wanderer's hand, landing at the bottom of the stairwell, before exploding. Electricity crackled through the air.

The Lone Wanderer charged forward, firing up and into the stairwell. Behind him, a squad member emerged, holding a ripper chainsaw.

The Lone Wanderer barely had time to spin and blocked the attack, which cleaved his rifle in half. The squad mate swung yet again, but the Lone Wanderer, no longer off balance, caught the attack with one hand. With the other, a knife was drawn, and plunged into the squad mate's throat.

I knew that all of Squad Sigma was dead.

But I also knew I had a chance to kill the military leader of the Brotherhood of Steel. A chance to kill the Lone Wanderer.

I rose from where I said been crouching, and drew my pistol, for my rifle had been dropped at some point on the battlefield, although I couldn't remember when. My hands trembled, my aim was unsteady, but I fired.

The plasma blast didn't even come close to hitting it's target. But it did cause the Lone Wanderer to whip around, pistol drawn and ready.

I felt hot tears run down my face, as I began bawling. The pistol slipped out of my hands. I knew that this was where I would die.

"Please, please don't kill me, please," I sobbed.

But the Lone Wanderer did something unexpected. Rather than shoot me, he lowered his weapon, and removed his helmet.

What I expected of the man who epitomized the Brotherhood of Steel, the man responsible for the destruction of the government of the United States, the deaths of President Eden, Colonel Autumn and so many other good men and women, I did not know. But what I saw was the last thing I would expect.

The man before me was not a man at all, but a child, no older than I. He had a scruffy, patchy beard and long, shoulder length dark hair and bright, youthful eyes. Scars of acne marked around his lips, and not a single wrinkle appeared on his face.

"Does my appearance not meet your expectations?" the Lone Wanderer smiled sadly, "were you expecting a scarred mercenary? A hateful paladin? Something not even human at all?"

I was speechless.

"I heard somewhere that the purpose of mankind is to kill. And after all my days in the Wasteland, I cannot find fault in this statement. But I know, our purpose can change. We may be a species designed to crave conflict, but we can change, we can redeem ourselves. This is something my father, James, once believed, and something I must believe as well. For my brothers, sisters, for my wife, Sarah," the Lone Wanderer shook his head.

"What about you? What about me?" I forced the words out.

"Whoever it is you are, you are never beyond redemption. This is while I spared Colonel Autumn. And this is why I'm sparing you now. Because I can see, you're a child, just like me. And of all things, war is certainly no place for children," the Lone Wanderer sighed, "but I suppose, after all, that's the thing about war. War never changes."

With that, the Lone Wanderer put his snowy helmet back on, and made his way up the stairs.

"He's right, you know. You should get out of here," I heard someone say behind me.

I turned, "Doctor Whitley."

"Yes, Scott, I'm still alive," Dr. Whitley looked down, "I recognized your voice. And now, I must ask that you do me a for, with the opportunity you have been presented."

"Yes sir. I'd do anything, after what you did for me," I replied.

"I have an eyebot, with information contained in it. Dangerous information, that could change the world. I want you to take it, and go west, to the NCR. They can help you."

"The NCR?" I asked, the name sounding vaguely familiar.

"Yes, the New California Republic. You have a long, difficult journey ahead of you. But it is absolutely vital that the information contained is not taken by the Brotherhood of Steel, or any other group of people you come across. And I realize how momentous of a task this must sound. But I need this, I can't abandon my post, now that I am commander. As such, you can consider any debt owed to me, completely forgiven."

"Yes, sir," I stammered out.

"And as commander, I hereby issue you an honorable discharge, and relieve you of your post, Private Scott Delaney."

The eyebot beeped and whirred, and it buzzed towards me.

"What are you waiting for? You must go!" Dr. Whitley ordered.

I reached the entrance, before turning back to the doctor, "Dr. Whitley, thank you. For everything."

"Scott, promise me this. Promise me you'll never let the wasteland change you. Promise me you'll never kill," Dr. Whitley outstretched a hand.

"I promise, sir," I nodded.

"Thank you. I'm glad I took you in," Dr. Whitley covered his face, "God be with you, my boy. I hope we meet again."

That was the last time I ever saw him.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: The Edge of the Capital Wastes

I was grateful for the company ED-E brought. The days spent traveling would've been much lonelier, without the sounds of optimistic chirps and beeps from my new companion.

More importantly, the little eyebot would warn me when cultist patrols approached, lumbering slowly along in their massive, clunky iron suits, with their impossibly heavy weapons. Massive, bestial sentry bots often accompanied them, red eyes aglow, searching for a target to shred to pieces. I knew just one of those sentry bots was worth a dozen good men in combat.

On occasion, I could even hear the radio broadcasts playing from the wandering cultists. Usually I could hear the faint pleasantness of music. And once in a while, I would hear somebody start talking, going on about a 'good fight', or something to that nature. Something about restoring the Capital Wasteland. Which meant cultist patrols could only have been looking for the likes of me.

If not for ED-E's help, the cultists would've butchered me by now. I was grateful to Dr. Whitley, for tasking me to guide his most valuable creation. I'd always known of the doctor's affection for robots, especially the eyebots, which is perhaps what contributed to ED-E's perception and intelligence.

Aside from these patrols, however, ED-E and I had stumbled across no other signs of life. All was quiet, save the sound of my feet pounding against the ashy earth, and the gentle droning buzz from my hovering companion.

The walking in silence was therapeutic, in a way. But, I could not stop myself from thinking about the battle. All the death, all the destruction. The soldier, who had been crying right with me, probably younger than I was, whose intestines spilled all across the ground. Crying for his mother, like a child. He didn't deserve what had happened to him.

I didn't deserve what had happened. And I often found that I couldn't sleep through the nights. Only ED-E was there, to console me, and stop me from crying, and putting my pistol to my head.

As though he could read my thoughts, ED-E whirred by my face, bobbing up and down. The little eyebot certainly did know how to make me smile.

We proceeded to travel in silence until nightfall.

Living inside the barracks, surrounded by compact steel walls and soldiers, I had forgotten what the wasteland actually looked like. How still and dead it all was. It was peaceful, and beautiful, in a peculiar sort of way. It would be difficult to leave this place, that had been my home for so long, I knew.

Even as I looked up, at the smog covered sky, to see the sun setting, I couldn't help but wonder if everywhere still looked like this. I wondered if there were places that people could really see the stars.

"We should stop here," I said, motioning to an alcove in the ground, "rest for the night."

Although ED-E didn't need it, he bobbed up and down in agreement.

I climbed out of my armor, and laid down a piece of cloth to rest my head upon. ED-E hovered above me, a sentinel to my resting form. As though it were he who had been tasked to protect me.

The thought gave me comfort, and I fell asleep almost instantly.

I woke to urgent beeping. My eyes snapped open, and my fingers wrapped their way around my plasma pistol. ED-E floated above me.

"What's wrong?" I groaned, rubbing my bleary eyes.

Ed-E beeped excitedly, turning to face the west.

Curious, I climbed to my feet, to see what ED-E had discovered. My eyes were met with three soldiers, gathered round a generator and makeshift cover. Just beyond the soldiers, lay the wreckage of a crashed vertibirds.

Perhaps these were survivors of Adams Air Force Base? Perhaps they might know the whereabouts of Dr. Whitley?

Climbing back into my armor, I began to quickly jog towards them, yelling and waving.

The soldiers seemed to have heard me, as they all turned my direction, and pointed. I continued waving my arms, as I broke into a full-scale run.

"Halt!" the soldier in the lead shouted, aiming his plasma rifle towards me, "name, rank and station!"

"Private Second Class Scott Delaney, Adams Air Force Base," I raised my hands in surrender, as ED-E followed meekly behind me.

The soldiers showed no intention of dropping their hostility. Their weapons remained raised, as ED-E began to chirp worryingly behind me.

"Technical Sergeant Aaron Richter, Old Olney. Brotherhood hit us on the wingtip, we made it about this far before we crashed," the sergeant motioned to his men, "stand down."

"Air Force, then?" once again, my eyes were drawn to the crashed vertibirds.

"Yes. Spent a while as a pilot, over at Raven Rock. Got stationed at an outpost by Old Olney, with a couple of men. Of course, you know what happened to both places, "Sergeant Richter slung his rifle across his back, "so, what happened at Adams Air Force Base, Private Delaney? I saw a large explosion from that direction."

"That was when our com gave out," a soldier added, before receiving an icy glare from the sergeant.

"The cultists attacked, killed everyone, and destroyed the base," I said simply, figuring it best to leave my personal tale to myself.

"Damnit," Sergeant Richter shook his head, "anyone else escape, private? Any officers?"

"No," I replied.

"We're fucked, then, aren't we sergeant?" one of the soldiers asked dramatically.

"No, not yet. The Enclave is alive still, it has to be," the sergeant said, although it was easy to distinguish the uncertainty in his voice.

"What can we do now, sergeant?" a soldier asked.

"We'll stick to fixing this vertibird, then. She's still got some flight left in her. Private, you're welcome to join us," the sergeant turned his back on me, defeatedly.

"Then we can take the fight back to the Brotherhood. Take back our capital-" a soldier said, before being cut off.

"Shut the fuck up," Sergeant Richter snapped, "here we are, on the very edge of the Capital Wasteland, with our government in ruins. We can't take the fight back. Maybe we can head to Chicago, Charleston, Navarro."

I had remembered Dr. Whitley saying something about those other Enclave bases. He said he'd kept in contact with Charleston and Chicago. I wondered if the same misfortune had befallen the rest of the Enclave. Surely, Navarro, the largest of the bases, had to be standing still.

"Private Delaney, why don't you join us," Sergeant Richter turned around, "that eyebot might be useful in our repairs. And we could always use the extra manpower."

"I-I would…" my voice trailed off.

"You would? Then why don't you," the sergeant said gruffly.

"I can't help you," I shook my head.

I knew I couldn't give any information away. Sergeant Richter would certainly seize ED-E from me. Even if these men were United States, I couldn't abandon my mission.

"Well, at least let us take that eyebot, then. We can make use of the spare parts," Sergeant Richter motioned towards my companion.

"I can't let you do that, sergeant," I rasped out weakly.

"Doesn't seem very patriotic of you, private."

"I-"

"What? What are you doing? Where are you going?"

"Chicago."

"Chicago? Must be something important on that eyebot, private. More important than helping your fellow soldiers."

Sergeant Richter did not sound convinced.

"I have to go, now. Good luck, rebuilding your vertibirds," I began to back away.

"Listen, private, there's no hope of us getting out of here. The Enclave really is finished, and the only way we can be safe, and out of the Capital Wasteland, to rebuild, is if we fix up our vertibirds, and fly out of here. So, as a direct order, hand over that eyebot, now."

This, I knew, was where I would die. The soldiers all raised their rifles at me once again.

My heart began thudding rapidly, as though it were about to burst free from my chest. My breaths grew short, as I knew that if I died here, I would die having failed Dr. Whitley, the one man who had ever shown me, shown ED-E, any kindness. Having been shot down by United States soldiers.

I'd heard it said that when someone feels they are about to die, they see their entire life flash before them in the span of a second. But what I saw was a memory, from basic training.

My platoon had one week to survive in the wilds on an expedition. This was customary with every platoon, and the expedition always proved brutal. We faced radiation storms, lack of food, lack of sleep, irradiated water and wild, ravenous beasts, the likes of which gave me nightmares for many months.

But the thing I will truly never forget, was when one of my platoonmates finally broke down, threw his battered old training rifle on the ground, and ran. We were so shocked, that this platoonmate had finally done what we had wanted to do for so long, that we simply couldn't react.

We searched for the trainee, whose name I can't remember, but we couldn't find him. And so, we were forced to call our training instructor, a strict, yet reserved man named Corporal Benson.

Corporal Benson met with my platoon, heard what we had to tell him, and left to find the missing trainee. And a few hours later, the corporal returned, carrying a crying trainee in tow.

The corporal asked the trainee why he'd run, to which the trainee replied that he simply couldn't handle being a soldier. Being left in the wastes, being forced to kill. It could've made any of us crack.

Corporal Benson had us all sit down, and he'd explained that he had felt much the same way. In fact, he'd personally survived a cultist ambush with his platoon, killing three of their numbers, before they were forced to retreat. It had shaken him, but he'd only grown stronger. It was the first time any of us had seen the man show something resembling human emotion.

But Corporal Benson asked what would've happened if he had run. If he had been insubordinate, and abandoned his brothers. He said there was no place for this in the United States military.

Corporal Benson drew his rifle, and shot the trainee five times. At least, I remember it being five times, but some of my platoonmates swear the man unloaded his entire clip into the poor trainee.

At this exact moment, I wondered if that trainee felt how I felt, with three Enclave guns pointed at me. To be shot down, like a dog, for being a deserter.

"sergeant," the voice of one of the soldiers broke through my train of thought, "what should we do, sir?"

The sergeant seemed to ponder this over. The wait felt like an eternity, as though an entire lifetime had passed us by, as my fate was decided.

"To hell with it. Enough of our boys have already been killed. There's no reason the private should have to join them," the sergeant sighed, lowering his rifle in defeat, "the Brotherhood of Steel will find us here, anyways. Let the private go."

"Thank you, sir," I couldn't believe my ears, "I-I owe you."

"Shut up," Sergeant Richter shook his head, "whatever it is you have to do, just do it and go."

Elated, I couldn't stop the smile that stretched its way across my face, as a wave of relief washed over me. I'd thought I was a dead man for sure.

But as I began to walk away, I couldn't help but turn back, and say, "you could come with me, sergeant. If you really believe the cultists will find you, they'll certainly show no mercy. We would do better as a group, on foot, heading to the west."

"I can't do that, private. Here we are, on the edge of the Capital Wasteland. If I'm truly meant to die, I'll die right here," Sergeant Richter let out a sigh, "good luck, private. Hell, maybe we'll meet again, some day."

I nodded to Sergeant Richter and his men. It was good to see fellow United States soldiers.

But I never saw them again.

"Where are we going, sir?" the pilot asked.

Captain Jordan Chase shook his head, "I don't know. The Enclave is fucking over, so try and find somewhere civilized."

Captain Chase couldn't believe it. The Brotherhood of Steel had won the war, defeating the Enclave. And they had destroyed Adams Air Force Base in the process, the last secret weapon of the Enclave. Now, the entire Capital Wasteland, once the proud monument to the United States government, was controlled by that fucking cult.

"I can enter the coordinates for Chicago, sir. I hear we hold a sizeable outpost, just outside the city," the pilot said, his head straight forward.

"Yes, Chicago, then," Chase leaned his head back on the chair, "my god, what a fucking disaster."

At least, of all things the captain had survived. He could take charge of whatever Enclave remnants still remained in the wastes.

Captain Chase looked out the window, staring at the Capital Wasteland for the last time. He knew he was abandoning his post, but he just couldn't bring himself to give a damn anymore. The war was over, lost. Nothing left but to regroup.

"Keep us on a steady path. I don't want us crashing before we get there," Chase made himself comfortable in the chair, resting his back on the lumpy seat.

He closed his eyes, inhaled and exhaled deeply, before he was off to sleep. He was only woken by a defeating blast, as the vertibirds was struck from the sky, and crashed down, miles from the Capital Wasteland.

Even as Jordan Chase crawled out of the wreckage, his body badly burned, he had not a clue in the slightest as to where he was.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N So, I saw an author who I respect greatly, using these author's notes, and figured this would be a good way to communicate. Anyways, I'll have another author's note at the end of the chapter, explaining some references made in this chapter, as well as the past two. I'm pretty proud of this chapter, as it introduces someone I've been planning for some time. This is my first author's note, but I hope it helps a little. Enjoy, and please feel free to R &R. I would really appreciate any feedback.**

Chapter 3: What Happened to Captain Jordan Chase

ED-E and I had been traveling for several days, since we had left the outpost on the edge of the Capital Wasteland. The last bit of civilization we had seen for some time was quickly fading into nothing more than a distant memory.

As we trudged along, suddenly, ED-E grew excited. He began beeping and whirring away, turning to face me.

"What's wrong?" I asked, concerned.

ED-E responded by bobbing up and down, before a crackled, weak voice came through his speaker, "if anyone can hear this, this is Captain Jordan Chase of the United States Army, the Enclave. I can provide weapons and technology, in exchange for medicine, water or food. I will die if I am not helped soon. Please, hurry."

The message repeated itself.

"How far are we from the signal?" the words all came tumbling from my mouth.

ED-E spun around once.

"There has to be some way we can find out, ED-E," I said.

I hadn't yet forgotten Captain Chase. He was the sort of man that was impossible to forget. Without his command, I would've been a dead man. I would never have gone out into the battle, thus never meeting with the Lone Wanderer, and Dr. Whitley. In a way, the captain had saved my life, and I couldn't help but feel that I owed the man something.

"We have to be close, to be within range of the transmission, right?" I spoke to myself, "ED-E, isn't there some way you can pinpoint the location of the signal?"

ED-E wavered from side to side, an act that I assumed meant he didn't know.

ED-E whirred up again, angling his body towards the direction of a factory, in the southwest. Almost immediately, he began jetting off, not bothering to look back, and see if I had followed.

I followed without hesitation. I knew that ED-E was intelligent. And I wanted to find someone else, even if it was Captain Chase.

X

The factory was a desolate looking building. It was clearly barren, void of any signs of life. A hollow, empty shell, a reflection of a better past, a monument to the hubris of humanity, that had ultimately lead to it's own destruction.

Standing tall overhead was a massive pole, bearing the familiar red and white sign of Nuka-Cola, broadcasted proudly to the wasteland.

Broadcasted proudly to no one.

"ED-E, is the signal coming from inside?" I asked, albeit reluctantly.

The monolithic building looked intimidating, a clearly dark, unexplored place, far larger even than Adams Air Force Base. The last thing I wanted to do would be to go inside, and hunt through labyrinthian hallways, and endless rooms filled with only God knew what.

My heart sank, as ED-E buzzed, nodding up and down in an exaggerated motion.

At this point, I was at a crossroads. I could either continue with the journey that Dr. Whitley had given me, taking ED-E west, ignoring the factory altogether. This was surely the least dangerous of the two.

The alternative to this being that I would traverse the pre-war relic, in search of the captain. Even if he were dead, the man deserved a proper burial, at the least, certainly. And if he were alive, I'd be granted another companion, one more proficient in in the skills of navigation, as well as small guns and energy weapons.

I turned to ED-E. And, as if the little eyebot knew what I was thinking, he angled himself towards the entryway.

I took a deep breath. This would be the first time I'd been indoors since I'd left the Enclave. I had no idea what kind of horrible things might lay in store for me.

Opening the door, I stepped into blackness, leaving the light of the wasteland and the shrieking of the hinges behind me. The light from my power armor flicked on automatically, allowing me a better view of my surroundings.

The only thing in this room ahead of me was a rounded wooden desk, cut in a half, with several ancient computers, decaying papers and pencils resting atop it. To my left was a small table, supporting an old lamp and a pack of cigarettes. Small, rotting chairs lay scattered around the room.

I saw no signs of life, anywhere.

"Hello!" I tentatively called out, looking all around, half expecting something terrible to happen.

ED-E beeped, hovering to the computers. He began to whir away once again, as his outer shell bumped against the corner of a monitor, causing him to spin out of control, and smack into a wall.

Unable to help myself, I began laughing at the eyebot's expense. I laughed until I was in tears. The clumsiness of the little eyebot was enough to break the tension, at least for now.

"Come on, ED-E. Can you trace the signal any further?" I asked, attempting to contain myself.

ED-E shook back and forth in response.

"Alright, alright, buddy. I guess we'll have to start looking," I sighed, not looking forward to what was coming.

I began moving forwards, past the rounded desk, through an entryway, to find myself in a massive room. A Nuka-Cola vending machine leaned against the wall to my right, as before me, I saw dozens of crates filled with Nuka-Cola.

I stepped forward, removing my helmet as I did so, before grabbing a bottle of the soda. It was warm, but I still popped the cap, and took a long swig. The sweet soda wettened my mouth, and the carbonation burned at the back of my throat. It was absolutely delicious.

I looked around, spotting a plastic bag, before I began stuffing it with as much Nuka-Cola as it could carry without tearing. ED-E, meanwhile, hovered behind me, the gentle hum of his thrustors lulling me into a state of general unease, rather than complete tension.

As I finished, pocketing the cap, and replacing my helmet, I saw several broken, rusted Mr. Handy robots against the far wall. As well as a lone skeleton, clutching a .32 pistol and a note.

The image sent chills down my spine, as I moved forward to investigate. Out of my own unfortunate morbid curiosity, perhaps, I unwrapped the skeleton's fingers, and picked up the note. In faded ink, it read:

 _Please, God, have you forsaken your followers? I see you have broken the skies with your thunder, and scorched the earth with your righteous anger. Surely, the sound of your trumpet has sounded. This must be the rapture, truly, but why have you left me? Why have you forsaken me? Forgive me, Lord._

I threw the note to the ground, in horror. The chill came back upon me, and I shivered. This was my first time reading something written before, no, during the Great War. In its own way, it filled me with more dread than any monster ever could.

ED-E let out a series of concerned beeps and whistles, reminding me of the task at hand. I had to find Captain Chase.

I forced myself to break eye contact with the skeleton, making my way into yet another empty room, this one containing a stairwell, which I promptly headed up. Still, I could see no signs that any living person had been here in 200 years.

"Hello!" I called, as I continued my walk, "hello!"

Silence.

Perhaps ED-E was wrong? Perhaps there was nothing in this dead place after all? But as I glanced back at my companion, I knew he would not have been mistaken. If ED-E was confident in himself, then surely, I should show confidence in him as well.

"ED-E, do you suppose Captain Chase is dead?" I couldn't help but ask, as I halted my progress.

ED-E whirred away once again, shaking his form back and forth. I nodded, before continuing my journey.

"Hello! Captain Chase, Captain Jordan Chase! Hello?" I yelled at nothing.

Finally, I reached the top of the stairwell, which lead to a balcony. I proceeded forwards, until I reached the edge, and looked down. And stopped.

Below me was a mass grave. Dozens of bodies littered the ground below. Old, rotting, twisted, decaying corpses. I was caught in absolute shock at what I saw.

I didn't know how to respond. I was simply frozen in place, in absolute horror. So many dead, so many lives lost, and all for what?

"Hello!" the word escaped my lips.

Five bodies leapt up to their feet, lifeless eyes searching for the source of noise that had awakened them from their slumber, until they locked on me. And the corpses stood, watching me, observing, waiting.

"Oh, shit!" I cried, stumbling backwards, dropping my bag of sodas.

What in the hell had I just seen? Had I been hallucinating? Had the bodies of the dead really risen up?

I returned to the ledge, although my feet felt as though they were made of lead. And I saw the rotting carcasses, still upright, still watching me. Still waiting for something, but what, I didn't know.

ED-E could sense the terror emanating from me, the sense of unease and dread. He moved to my shoulder, beeped gently once, and pointed his form towards the hallways to my left.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, and followed ED-E forward. All the while, the corpses' gazes followed me, until I was out of their sight.

At that moment, I remembered something one of my instructors had said, about dead men, who still lived. Mutations, abominations, I don't remember what they had called those things.

From that point on, I had to focus all my energy to forcing myself to move forwards. Every side passage I came across, I had to watch, had to make sure no dead men would jump out and attack me, for I remembered my instructor speaking of their savagery.

The tension was building to the point that it became unbearable. As I placed one foot in front of the other, I knew I couldn't go any further. So, I turned into the closest room, a restroom.

My eyes darted about, as I saw a first aid kit, which I promptly opened, removing a stimpak and a shot of Med-X. Perhaps these could help me, save my life someday.

"ED-E!" I hissed quietly, "ED-E, come on!"

I heard the little eyebot chirp. The sound comforted me, somewhat, as I leaned against a side wall.

Suddenly a stall exploded open. Before I could react, the thing, humanoid in form, snapped it's head my direction. Up close, the dead men were even more horrifying. Their skin had all but rotted away, their stench reeked, as they looked akin to some petrified monster from an old horror holovid.

The dead man pounced on me, smashing me against the wall, causing me to scream in fright. The claws scraped against my armor, as the thing gnashed it's teeth. I made an attempt to raise my arms, but the thing continued it's onslaught, scraping and scratching and striking.

I heard a thunderous boom, and the dead man flew to the side, many small holes peppering it's side. I gasped, dropping to my knees, turning to the left to face my savior.

But my relief melted away into dread, for my salvation turned out to be another dead man. This one, clad in leather armor, wielding a shotgun.

I let out another scream, reaching frantically for my plasma pistol. In an instant, the dead man slammed into me, pressing the shotgun up against my throat.

"Shut your fucking mouth, now. I just saved your life, kid, now follow me," the dead man said, waiting until I nodded in comprehension before removing the weapon, "good. Now stay close, stay quiet and keep your damn head down."

I began to follow the dead man, into an open room. The dead man turned around, shoving me to the ground, before firing his shotgun once again. I turned my head to see another of the savage corpses fall, this one missing a head.

"Get up on your feet," the dead man snapped, still keeping his shotgun to the door.

I obeyed immediately, as I scurried behind him. Only to see ED-E, accompanied by three new companions.

"Leper, keep guard of that door," one of the companions, a bald man, ordered, "Ilya, Colonel Carver, find something to block that door, now!"

"You ought to let me out there, and show these commie sons of bitches just what a true, red-blooded American patriot can do," a Mr. Gutsy robot complained, in a throaty voice that reminded me of Corporal Benson.

"These fucking ferals are everywhere," the dead man, whose name was Leper, retorted, letting off another blast from his shotgun, "should've known this whole expedition was too fucking good to be true."

"I think you're starting to turn into one of those ferals yourself, Leper," the girl, whose name was Ilya, quipped, a half smile on her face.

"Fuckin' bitch," Leper muttered to himself, "kid, what the fuck are you still doing here? Get over there, with the rest of them."

Leper pointed towards the bald man and ED-E. I promptly obeyed.

"Nice power armor," the bald man nodded, running a hand across his goatee, "the name's David James. The ghoul there is Leper, he's got a bit of a temper, but he's a hell of a soldier. That girl's Ilya, our hacker and lockpick. And that robot is Colonel Cutler. Ilya fixed him up a few years back, and he's been a welcome member of our party ever since."

"I-I'm Scott. Scott Delaney," I hesitated, "and that is my eyebot, ED-E."

"Good to meet you, Delaney. Now, I suppose there's no transmission after all, if you aren't that Captain Jordan Chase fellow," David James trailed off.

"We're good, sir," Ilya said, pushing her dark hair out of her eyes, as she and Colonel Cutler finished pushing a desked in front of the entryway.

"Good, good work. Now, we need to plan a way to get out of here," David James shook his head.

"Look, David, all due respect, but that transmission is coming from in here. It's offering technology, weaponry. Now, we leave now, all we'll have to show for it is wasted ammo, which we only have a limited supply of. We need to bring back something worthwhile," Leper said, keeping his shotgun at depressed ready.

"I agree. A captain in the army of the great United States simply cannot be abandoned. We should show these goddamn commies how we deal with hostage takers in America," Colonel Cutler said, pride in his voice.

"Mr. James," I said uncertainly.

"Just David. Or James, if you'd like," David James interrupted.

"Err, David, I need to find Captain Chase, sir. That's why I'm here, also," I said.

"Now that's the American spirit. It's why capitalism and freedom will always prevail," Colonel Cutler hovered over to me.

"Look, we just need to get out of here," David said, running his hands across his bald head.

"David," Ilya said, setting a hand on his shoulder, "we can't just let that man die, can we? Especially when he can provide us with weapons and tech. Even if he's dead by the time we arrive, this transmission is only a few days old. He'll have something on him, I'm sure of it."

David shook his head, but didn't answer. Instead, he began pacing back and forth.

I figured it would be best to keep my mouth shut, even as ED-E made his way over to me. I was fortunate that no one had tried to take my armor, eyebot or plasma pistol. At least for now, that didn't seem to be a priority to anyone. After all, I had no idea how people might react if they knew who I was, and where I was from.

We were taught to never trust the uncivilized savages of the wasteland. While the cultists were certainly bad enough, the savages were even worse. The cultists had a semblance of culture, at least they knew how to maintain a sense of order and stability. Savages would result to killing each other for shiny trinkets and the like.

"Delaney, what do you think?" David asked, raising an eyebrow.

"What the fuck are you asking him for? He's useless, if not for me that feral ghoul would've shredded him to pieces," Leper scoffed.

I gulped, taking a deep breath, "I think we should find him."

ED-E beeped worryingly, but I knew he would stay beside me.

"Very well. But I still think this is a mistake," David said, drawing his submachinegun, "let's move this debris out of the way, and find the source of this transmission."

"Nice armor, by the way," Ilya remarked, as she walked past me, "once we get out of here, I'd love to get my hands on it."

Before I could react, Leper had removed the desk holding the door shut against the scratching on the other side. Immediately, hideous ghouls burst the door down, stumbling forward, snarling, searching for a target.

A blast of fire emerged from Colonel Cutler's flamethrower arm, engulfing two of the ghouls. The monsters shrieked, as the Mr. Gutsy shot them both down with his plasma cannon.

"I think I can trace the transmission's source!" Ilya called, turning my attention back to her, as Colonel Cutler and Leper continued defending the door.

"Good, good," David waved his free hand while advancing towards the door, "Leper, are we clear?"

The ghoul peeked his head outside, looking right, then left, "we're clear, at least, for now.'

"Good. Now, let's move out," David James lead the way, submachinegun held at the ready.

"Don't get in the way," Leper snarled at me, before following.

Colonel Cutler and Ilya followed, leaving only ED-E and me. We both exchanged a look, and began to follow.

David James continued his cautious forward approach. He hadn't sighted any more ghouls yet, but he knew it was bound to happen. Abandoned buildings like these were always chocked full of them. Or robots. Or raiders. Or supermutants.

"David, we're close," David heard Ilya call from behind him.

"Alright," David kept his eyes front, always on alert. One slipup would be fatal, as he'd seen far too many times.

He heard a skittering sound, and raised his left hand, signaling to stop. Slowly, carefully, he advanced forward, into another large, open room.

"Alright, fall in," David waved.

Suddenly, a dozen ghouls leapt out of the shadows, hissing and spitting and snarling. They snapped their teeth, twitching and making frantic breathing sounds.

Davis swung his gun left, then right, sweeping the room, as the ghouls approached. He squeezed the trigger, sending two rounds into one's chest, before firing at the next.

Behind him, however, a ghoul leapt on his back, tearing away at his face.

"Gah!" David cried, firing wildly.

"David!" David heard Leper cry, as the ghoul began firing at the ferals.

Another feral leapt atop David, and then another, ripping away at his flesh. Tearing off his skin, digging their fingers into his innards. A shotgun blast blew one of the ghouls off him.

One of the ghouls grabbed David James by the head, and began yanking, tearing away at it. At that moment, David began to scream and flail, as the monsters covered his body.

"No, David!" I heard Ilya shout, as I saw a ghoul tear the man's head from his shoulders, spraying hot blood across it's legs, and across the lifeless corpse.

Colonel Cutler joined Leper, shooting feral left and right, as Ilya pulled a pistol from her hip and shot down the two ghouls atop David James. She rushed to the body, holding it close.

ED-E, meanwhile, had joined the fray, taking a ghoul out with a well-placed blast to the face, incinerating the creature. I, on the other hand, was still frozen still. It was as though something, someone had taken hold of me, cast some sort of spell.

"Well, that's the last of those fuckers," Leper turned around, and made eye contact with me, "what are you just standing around for, smoothskin? You know how to shoot a gun, pussy?"

"These commie sons of bitches got exactly what they deserved," Colonel Cutler said proudly, "I think our commander would be proud to have died in such a way, in service to our great nation."

"Ilya," Leper knelt by the crying woman," we have to go, he's gone. We need to get the hell out of here."

"He's dead because of us, you know," Ilya snapped, "he wanted to go back, but we insisted to move forward. To find some damn captain, for what?"

"Listen to me, Ilya, use some fucking common sense here. If we don't find that captain now, David will have died in vain. We've come too far now," Leper urged, attempting to pull Ilya to here feet.

My eyes wandered across the room, when I saw him. Captain Jordan Chase himself, leaning against a wall, sitting down, slumped over. Uniform in tatters, badly burning, but still recognizable as the captain. A small transmitter rested in his lap.

"Ilya, Leper, Colonel Cutler!" I shouted excitedly, breaking the somber silence, "I've found him!"

I ran to examine Captain Chase. The Enclave officer, however, had clearly been dead for around a week now. And he had been stripped of his weapon. My eyes narrowed, as confusion began to wash over me. For the captain showed no signs of bite or claw marks. Which meant he hadn't died here. Someone had placed him here.

"So, this was fucking pointless then," Leper loomed over my shoulder, violently yanking the transmitter from the dead man's lap.

The ghoul threw the thing to the floor, before he began stamping on it, repeatedly, until it was no longer recognizable as a transmitter.

Leper looked around, "alright, let's get out of here."

"He deserves a proper burial. He was a good man," Ilya said, still at David's side, "we can't just leave David here, not after all he's done for us, and for Holon."

"Fine, have the new guy carry him. At least that cunt will be fucking good for something," Leper shoved me aside, before making his way to the exit.

I hoisted David James' body up over my shoulder, before Ilya handed me the decapitated head. I probably would've thrown up, but I saw the tears in Ilya's eyes, and knew I had to do this.

ED-E beeped approvingly at my actions.

"Thank you, Scott," Ilya gave a sad half-smile, "I think you'll like Holon."

And with that, I left the body of Jordan Chase behind, along with my life as a soldier of the Enclave. Even if it might delay my mission, these people had saved my life, and I owed them. It was the right thing to do.

So, in silence, aside from Colonel Cutler's remarks about freedom and America, we made our way out of that factory.

X

Captain Jordan Chase had pulled himself around 100 yards away from the vertibirds wreckage, before his strength gave out. He simply couldn't go any further.

In a last, desperate move, Captain Chase pulled his transmitter out from his satchel. It had been damaged, but it was still functional. And so, holding the button to record, Jordan Chase spoke his last words.

Once he finished, he laid back. The captain knew he was going to die. And yet, despite the immense pain, Captain Jordan Chase felt a strange calm wash over him. He didn't care anymore.

Captain Chase was dead by the time Derrick Ransett had tracked the transmission, and found the body. He proceeded to take the damaged plasma pistol from the captain's side.

X

Derrick Ransett began to chuckle to himself, at he dragged Captain Chase's body along behind him, hanging on to the transmitter. Only a mile away, he knew, was a ghoul infested factory. Any good Samaritans who might come looking for the source of the transmission would surely be devoured in the ghoul nest. An absolutely perfect trap.

Derrick Ransett coulnd't wait to meet his next victims.

 **A/N**

 **So, an obvious reference is made to the small guns and energy weapons skills when Eric refers to Jordan Chase for the first time.**

 **I had to include numerous references to one of my favorite movies, "28 Days Later". This includes where Scott calls out "hello" repeatedly to silence, only to call it out over a mass grave to see several dead beings pop up and being observing him. Also, where Scott grabs a soda and drinks it, then proceeds to fill a plastic bag with sodas.**

 **David James is a reference to the actual actor David James, specifically nodding to his role as Colonel Koobus in the film "District 9". Colonel Koobus dies much the same was as David James.**

 **Now, the first chapter was heavily inspired by the D-Day scene from "Saving Private Ryan". I also included a nod to the special skills, where Jordan chase asks Scott if he "thinks he's special".**

 **Well, I hope you enjoyed. Like I said, this is my first author's note, but I feel it better inserts my voice into the series. Please R &R, any feedback is appreciated!**


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